


Fix Me

by T_J_Lexx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Destiel - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 16:00:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1611023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/T_J_Lexx/pseuds/T_J_Lexx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam need time apart if their now-toxic co-dependent relationship is to be salvaged. Cas takes it upon himself to do whatever is necessary to save Dean from himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean dropped his duffel bag and his tired ass down onto the motel bed with a sigh. Opening the bag, he pulled out a half-empty beer and all the information he had on the case he was working. He had to visit the hospital tomorrow but he was pretty sure this was a werewolf problem. He opened the bottle, took a sip then put it down on the floor and started taking off his shoes, looking around the one-bed, dingy room.  
Not seeing another bed beside his threatened to dredge up feelings Dean refused to acknowledge existed so he distracted himself with undressing for a quick shower. He made his way to the bathroom, stepped into the shower and drew the curtain.  
As the lukewarm water hit his face and chest, his mind flashed through the vamp nest in Ohio, the twin ghosts in Nevada and the too-happy-to-be-careful-about-his-killings demon in Louisiana. He had done three hunts on his own since leaving the bunker but the he still felt as bereft as he did the day he left. He did his breathing exercises, breathe in five seconds, breathe out five seconds. As the now scalding water droplets rolled down his back, he let those feelings roll with them, off his body and away down the drain.  
Just as he turned off the water, he heard his cell phone trilling. He made no rush to answer it; it was probably Cas. Dean was unabashedly avoiding the angel. Hearing Cas’ genuinely worried voice would only serve to remind Dean why Cas thought he should be worried in the first place.  
None of that.  
Dean had a hunt tomorrow and he had to focus.  
************************************************************************************************************ Cas looked at the phone in his hand, wondering if he should try Dean again. He had called Dean three times daily since the day he had left the bunker and Dean hadn’t picked up the phone in weeks. The only proof Cas had that he was still alive and well was the fact that his calls didn’t always go to voicemail after six rings, sometimes as early as the second or third ring, which meant that Dean was purposely sending the calls there. It was times like these that Cas regretted carving the Enochian warding symbols on the man’s ribs. Had he not, he would be able to track him now. It was frustrating relying on Dean Winchester to respond on his own time.  
While Cas knew Dean needed time to heal, he knew Dean well enough to know that Dean was more than likely repressing right now, not healing. Cas could never hope to replace what Dean had lost but he could help. He knew he could, if only Dean would pick up the phone.  
For the 60th time in three weeks, Sam Winchester woke up on top of copious amount of paper with a pain in his neck from sleeping hunched over the table. Yawning, he got up and stretched himself. As he walked to the kitchen to make himself coffee, he stepped on a piece of paper that must have fallen off the desk. He picked it up and realised it was a piece of research on the Egyptian goddess Isis. In addition to the actual information, it had on a picture of a model dressed as Isis for some Halloween party or something. Historical inaccuracy of the costume aside, Sam had to laugh at how bare the costume left the model’s cleavage. Dean would no doubt make some disgusting comment if he were there to see it.  
At the thought, Sam balled the page up and threw it back onto the table with the rest of his research. Dean wasn’t there and he likely wouldn’t for a long time. After he left, Sam had thrown himself into his research, eating and sleeping only when his body demanded. Turns out the bunker’s library had a very impressive section on spells and Sam had been going over it with a fine toothed comb to learn all he could about spells to protect against or incapacitate demons. Since he had failed to slam the gates of Hell, Sam had never felt more obligated to cull the demon threat on earth. He had actually made some progress with a few incantations, he just needed an actual demon on whom to try them out.  
Sam reached the kitchen and started making the coffee. He needed to be wide awake if he had any chance of getting a demon back with him to the bunker, alive.

*************************************************************************************************************************

The first time Castiel had visited this dimension, the smell of dog had been overwhelming. Now, he barely noticed it. He hadn’t been looking for it specifically, but during the war with Metatron, all possibilities had to be considered. One of those possibilities had been banishing Metatron to another realm. Castiel had hopped from one to another, looking for one suitable to trap the megalomaniac angel.  
On his travels, he found one similar to that Sam and Dean had told him about, where they had been actors. This dimension was mostly identical to the one they had come from, only everyone’s DNA seemed to have been spliced with that of werewolves, hence the dog smell. Over time, Castiel learned that their society was divided into Alphas, Omegas and Betas. Most persons did not have the need to turn into wolves anymore and most didn't but the wolf hierarchy remained. The Alphas ran things and Omegas had more domestic roles. Betas had the most freedom of choice as their biological imperatives were all but dormant and largely did whatever they wanted.  
It was curiosity that made him visit the realm a second time ad he always swore he would stop coming but he couldn’t forsake this.  
Cas ran his hands down the back of the shaking Omega in his arms, whispering what he hoped were comforting words. The Omega buried his face in Cas’ shirt, his tears seeping through to moisten Cas’ chest. Since he found them here, this was usually how Cas ended up, comforting this Omega when his Alpha left him emotionally wrecked.  
“I-I-If I could just have a baby, we would be okay again…” the Omega sobbed.  
Cas shifted his weight on the couch and put his hand under the Omega’s chin, forcing his green eyes to meet Cas’ blue.  
“The last thing I want is to cause you further pain but you have to understand,” Cas said, “A baby will not fix you and Sam.”


	2. Chapter 2

Sam slams the dungeon doors, cutting off the maniacal laughter of the demon inside. He punches the wall in anger, then howls in pain and paces the hallway massaging his sore knuckles. It has been three days and none of the spells he developed are working. Having his original works fail was expected but he had been tweaking a word here and altering ingredients there for 72 hours now without sleep and still nothing.  
In addition to being tired, since he hadn’t slept, his body was still sore from apprehending the demon in the first place. He had to shoot the demon with a bullet engraved with a devil’s trap to keep him from smoking out (that wasn’t too hard since he had the element of surprise); the hard part was incapacitating him to bring him to the bunker. That had been a hell of a fight. Sam was almost sure he had sustained two broken ribs but he couldn’t think about that now.  
Sam exhaled raggedly, blinked and squinted his left eye. After a little roughing up, the demon had spat bitterly at Sam, a globule of blood landing in his eye. That eye was now tingling strangely but Sam had wiped away all the blood. He put it down to sleep deprivation. Having taken his five minutes reprieve, Sam set his jaw, squared his shoulders and went back in.  
Everything about this demon was so pathetic. From his bloodied grin to his gothic dress, complete with black eye-shadow, a black trench coat and black, studded, platform boots that tapped faux-gaily on the marking of the Devil’s Trap on the floor. He turned his head nonchalantly, gelled Mohawk gleaming, and looked at Sam through the eye the hunter hadn’t caused to swell.  
“Back to play Harry Potter with me some more?” the demon rasped.  
Sam said nothing as he turned his back to the demon to fill more syringes with the holy water on the table at his side.  
He didn’t hear the short, choking sound the demon made and he didn’t know that the demon’s airway had been blocked for a few seconds while his back was turned. The demon didn’t tell him.  
***************************************************************************************************

Angels may not eat but even Cas knew Dean’s burgers were delicious. He told him as much as he took his second, enthusiastic bite. Eating food made Castiel feel a little nauseous but he was aware his appreciation of Dean’s culinary skill would cheer him up.  
And Dean was so rarely cheerful these days.  
Some days were good. Sam would come home and kiss Dean and they would talk about Sam’s day and fall asleep against each other, Sam reading a book, Dean watching a movie. Other days weren’t as good. Sam would come home, grab a beer from the fridge and go straight to the couch, as if Dean wasn’t even there. When Dean would try to talk, Sam would snap at him so viciously, the Omega would beat a hasty retreat and not attempt communication until the next day.  
Weekends were worse.  
Sam would leave Friday night and not come home until the wee hours of Monday morning. Dean would ask him where he had gone and he would lie. Sam didn’t even care enough anymore to put convincing effort into his duplicity. Dean asked once if he could go with Sam. Sam just scoffed as he went out the door. Dean had been teetering on the edge until one morning Sam came in smelling like someone else.  
Then he fell over.  
He pretended to be asleep until Sam left for work, then called Cas. Cas showed up three days later. That was the first time he had cried on Cas’ shoulder and Dean was so grateful for it. Without Cas’ support, he might have totally broken down.  
Cas was surprised when he realised that Sam and Dean were romantically involved in this realm but it was apparent that the biological imperative superceded family ties here. If they were compatible, that was all that mattered. Cas knew that Sam and Dean Winchester would always be like lock and key.  
Sam was Dean’s everything. They were mated. Bonded for life. And now Sam was forsaking that bond.  
Dean tried to do more and be better but Sam never noticed. One had to care to notice. But Dean would not give up.  
His heat was coming up and he was off his birth control. Hopefully, Sam would be there to know knot him through it this time. Last time, Sam had left him on his own to deal with his heat.  
Dean still got migraines.  
If he could only get pregnant, Sam would have to be his Alpha again, be a good father. And they would be happy.  
No matter what Cas said, Dean clung to this hope. Cas had even, subtly, offered to take Dean away, somewhere new where he could get a fresh start. Maybe even find a new Alpha to take care of him. Dean refused.  
“Me and Sam, we’re forever, Cas. You don’t walk out on forever.” He would say.  
Cas’ heart broke a little every time he said it. The angel welcomed the feeling, as proof that his heart still beat in him and not in Dean Winchester’s grasp, as he had long feared.  
**************************************************************************************************************

Dean came into the common area just in time to see Sam gathering some papers and shoving them into his backpack.  
“Hey, you going on a hunt I don’t know about?” Dean asked.  
Eyes down, Sam replied, “No.”  
He continued packing, never meeting Dean’s eyes.  
“Then where are you going?” pressed Dean.  
“I don’t know yet.”  
Dean raised his eyebrows incredulously, “You don’t know? Sammy, what’s up with you?”  
Sam stopped his movements and looked up at his brother, meeting Dean’s gaze for the first time since he had entered the room. “I told you before, Dean, we…we’re damaged, we’re not right…somehow. We can’t…I can’t be here with you, hunting with you, pretending everything’s hunky-dory.”  
“Sam, you already said we could be brothers or hunters. I chose hunters. I thought this was what you wanted.”  
Sam sighed. “I thought it was, too. It’s just…it’s not enough. I need time away from you, I need time to forgive you.”  
Dean hung his head, hands gripping the table. Sam couldn’t know that was all that was keeping Dean upright just then. Then the elder Winchester stood up straight, eyes blank and distant.  
“You stay here. You like the books way more than I do anyway. I’ll leave. Been wanting some time on the road with Baby anyway.”  
“No. Dean, you don’t have to-“  
Sam might as well have stayed silent for all his words did. In an hour, Dean returned with two bags fully packed and ready to go. One of the bags contained hunter weapons, the other Dean’s personal things.  
As he made his way to the door, Sam tried for the final time, “Dean, stop. You don’t have to do this.”  
He didn’t even look back as he replied, “Yes, I do.”  
Dean didn’t slam the door but Sam could swear he heard the echo in the bunker long after.  
**************************************************************************************************************************  
Dean reclined on the hood of the Impala, nursing a bottle of Jack, watching the stars. He never had before, thinking it too feminine of an activity. Those unchanging bright white lights, winking out from an ocean of darkness, Dean thought them cold. Beautiful they were but so cold; they reminded him of angels. Even the way some shone brighter than others, how some seemed closer than others, seemed comparable to the dicks with wings.  
He chuckled to think of them as a family, the thousands of them were technically siblings, after all. Every family had its issues but the Heavenly Host took the cake, they slaughtered, mind-controlled, betrayed and tortured each other in the name of whichever cause they happened to believe in at the time.  
But Dean couldn’t talk. His own brother wanted shut of him. The brother he had been protecting for so long, he didn’t know how to live any other way. Now there was a gaping hole in his chest and no amount of hunting, booze or slutty women could fill it. Dean would feel himself coming apart but he didn’t have the tools to pull himself back together.  
He took another shot of the Jack.  
But he could dull the pain until it destroyed him.


End file.
